


Never Seen Anything Quite Like You Tonight

by capnstark



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:51:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3061610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capnstark/pseuds/capnstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's tradition for Louis to be the first person to wish Harry a Merry Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Seen Anything Quite Like You Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from 'Never Seen Anything' by The Script
> 
> Disclaimer: One Direction don't belong to me, I'm just borrowing them

_Clink. Clink. Clink_

Harry blinks awake at the sound of tiny pebbles hitting his bedroom window. He's only been dozing, for maybe twenty minutes or so, but his brain feels all fuzzy and half-asleep and it takes him a second to realise what it is. Rolling his eyes, he leans over the side of his bed to flick on the lamp and to grab his phone then sinks back into his pillows as he quickly sends a text.

_It's open._

There's a thud of something banging against the wall of the house and then it's quiet until the window creaks open slowly and there's a blast of cold air into Harry's room.

"Haz?"It's Louis. Of course it's Louis. "You awake?"

Harry feels a smile creep onto his face. He can't seem to help it. "Yeah, 'm up."

He can see Louis' grin from all the way across the room. "Good," Louis says happily and then he falls in through the window and onto the floor with a thunk.

"Shhh," Harry tries to say seriously but he's giggling. "You'll wake my mom and Robin."

Louis scoffs as he pushes the window to. "Quiet as a mouse, me," he says entirely too proudly. He shakes his hair out and drops of snow fall onto the carpet. His hoodie is soaked through and he's shivering a bit. Harry frowns.

"Did you walk here in the snow?"

Louis just sort of shrugs, a faint blush rising on his cheeks.

Harry sighs. "C'mere, you daft idiot." He leans over the side of the bed and fumbles through the clothes he'd chucked on the floor when he'd changed earlier and finds the grey woollen jumper he'd worn that day as Louis tiptoes across to the bed, shrugging off his hoodie and kicking his shoes to the side.  Harry goes to give him the jumper but Louis slides a hand into Harry's hair instead, tugs him close and kisses him. 

"Hi," Louis murmurs, smiling softly against Harry's lips. "Missed you."

Harry huffs out a laugh. "I saw you like, four hours ago."

Louis hums, trails his fingers down to Harry's collarbone and pushes his thumb against his pulse as he sucks a kiss into Harry's jaw. "Felt like too long."

They've been doing this since Louis had turned twelve and deemed himself old enough to sneak out of his house once everyone was asleep and make the treacherous journey across two streets to Harry's. There's an old tree-house in the oak outside Harry's bedroom; Louis would climb the ladder and come in through the window, and the two boys would curl up in bed together and laugh and talk and cuddle until they fell asleep. Harry's sixteen now, and Louis' just turned nineteen, and it hasn't changed. The kissing's kind of new, in the last few months, but the feeling that Harry has that he's so in love that his heart might just burst has been there since day one.

"Come get into bed then, you're freezing."

Louis flops flat down on the bed with a groan, making Harry bounce on the mattress and then Louis sits up holds his arms out expectantly like a child. Harry shakes his head but pulls the jumper on for him, laughing as Louis' hair fluffs up where it's all wet.

"You're can be so stupid sometimes," he says, aiming for annoyed but sounding altogether too fond. He ruffles Louis' hair and Louis preens under the touch.

"So I've been told," Louis grins, swinging his legs under the covers and wriggling into Harry's side. Their legs are tangled together, but Harry still wants to be closer. "Anyway," he says. "It's almost Christmas Day. Have to be the first person to say 'Merry Christmas' to you, don't I?"

Harry loves him. He loves him more than he's ever loved anything ever and sometimes that scares him but mostly he wishes they could just stay this way forever, wrapped up in the warmth of his bed and each other, where it's calm and quiet and secret, their own little secret world like it had been when they were kids.

Louis' mom had cooked her traditional Louis'birthday-slash-ChristmasEvedinner and their families had gathered in Louis' house that evening to celebrate. It's been the same since Louis had plonked his arse down beside Harry at lunch when Harry was in Year one and Louis already in juniors; Louis had offered him his half eaten penguin bar because he thought Harry  looked sad sat on his own and they'd been friends ever since. But this year at dinner, for the first time, Louis had hooked his ankle around Harry's beneath the table, rested a hand on his thigh and had barely spoken to anyone else, too interested in sharing covert smiles with Harry over their roast and sticky toffee pudding.

They'd excused themselves to Louis' room after under the pretext of watching a movie, had climbed into Louis' bed and pulled the covers over their heads and just lay there, kissing lazily with no real intent, just content to be together. Harry's mom had called upstairs almost three hours later, said it was time for Harry to come home because it was getting late.

It's late now, and Louis had still walked here in the snow, gotten cold and wet because it's their tradition, and no matter what else changes between them this was never going to, that it's hard to sleep without the other beside them, and that waking up to each other on Christmas morning is how it's always been.

"Could have texted me," Harry says, because saying anything else would be too much.

"Nah," Louis replies, nuzzles his cold nose against Harry's neck; Harry shivers, grips Louis' hip tight and pulls him in closer. Louis goes happily, practically purring in contentment and tangling the fingers of one hand in Harry's hair. They fit together like puzzle pieces, Harry thinks, Louis slotting perfectly into the dips and curves of Harry's body, like they've grown up together this way to fit. It takes Harry's breath away.

It's quiet, then; Harry can see the snow swirling around outside where Louis hadn't quite pulled the curtains closed, can feel Louis' heart beating steadily against his own chest and it's calm and perfect and Harry thinks he could fall asleep like this, now.

"Is it Christmas yet?" Louis asks, tracing patterns across Harry's back with the tips of his fingers; Harry makes out the words ' _mine', 'gorgeous'_ and then _'cup of tea'_ because Louis is a ridiculous human being.  It's just after midnight.

"Just gone," he mumbles into Louis' hair.

Louis digs his fingers into Harry's shoulders and kisses him, smiling again. "Want your present?"

Harry leers at him, chases his lips when he pulls away. "Why Mr Tomlinson, are you propositioning me?"

Louis snorts and smacks Harry across the chest. "While the answer would normally be 'yes', I did actually want to give you your proper present."

He reaches over for his hoodie and fiddles around in the pocket. When he turns back to Harry he keeps one hand behind his back.

"Close your eyes," he whispers. The backs of his fingers brush Harry's hip as he shifts closer. "Now put out your hand."

Harry blindly sticks a hand in front of him, palm up. The angles awkward, but Louis kisses his fingertips softly, one by one until Harry's certain he's going to explode from the anticipation and the desire coursing through him. Louis presses a box into his hand.

"You can open 'em," Louis says.

The box is square and deep, and Harry hasn't got a clue what's in it. He wants to shake it and try and guess, maybe make a joke but Louis' got his bottom lip between his teeth and he looks nervous so Harry thinks, maybe not.

Then he stops thinking altogether, because he's opened the box and it's... "Fuck, Lou."

It's a thin brown leather bracelet, curved in a semi-circle inside the box where it's nestled on a crumpled up bit of tissue paper. Etched into the leather are yellow stars, big and small with lines like sparks from them and right in the centre a half moon, bright white and patterned with zigzags. Harry wants it on his wrist, right this second but his hands are shaking.

"Here," Louis murmurs, taking the box from him and lifting it out. He grasps Harry's forearm and rests the bracelet against his wrist then turns it so he can tie the bits of cord, tight in a knot. Harry never wants to take it off again, anyway. It's cool against his skin and he can't stop looking at it.

Louis tips his head down, presses a kiss to the drawings. "You're my moon," he says softly. "You always used to say I was like the sun, when we were little, but the sun can't exist without it's moon, you know. The universe would be all out of kilter, and the moon keeps it steady, keeps it spinning."

Harry thinks he's crying. It's stupid and ridiculous and romantic and... it's so _Louis,_ his Louis and he's so insanely in love with his best friend. "I love you," he says, before he can stop himself.They've never said that to each other, not when it means more than just friends.

Louis' eyes go wide for a second and then he grins, lets out an overly dramatic sigh of relief. "Well thank God for that, I honestly thought I was going to have to be stalkerishly in love with you for the rest of my life, doomed to never know what it was like to have my love returned and-"

Harry shuts him up with a kiss, because he wants to and because he can. Louis' laughing into his mouth, though, and mumbling ' _I love you, I love you'_ over and over again and Harry never, ever wants to stop kissing him because he loves him, thinks he will always love him and he never, ever wants to stop loving him either.

They're curled around each other, fast asleep, when Harry's mom peeks her head into his room the next morning to see if Harry's awake yet. She just smiles at the way Louis has fitted his smaller body half on top of Harry, his head tucked under Harry's chin, and at their entwined hands resting on Harry's chest. She's always sort of known, really, that her son was in love with his best friend, but she's glad that she can be sure now that Louis loves her son too.

They emerge from Harry's room nearly two hours later, and come barrelling into the kitchen where Anne's preparing Christmas dinner and they're laughing and all over each other, Louis clutching at Harry's hips with both hands. He crowds Harry into the counter, hooks his chin on Harry's shoulder and whispers something in his ear that makes Harry let out a bark of laughter.

"You're here early, Louis," Anne comments casually. Harry bites his lip, flushes as he fiddles with the bracelet that's warm against his skin now but Louis just flashes her a grin then pushes up on his toes to kiss just below Harry's ear and that says it all, really.

It's nice though, Harry thinks, when they sit in front of the fire with both of their families to open their presents after dinner and Louis crowds right into Harry's space, drapes a leg over Harry's lap and presses a smacking kiss to his lips and no one so much as flinches. It's not much different to normal, he supposes, because maybe they've always sort of been in love, and maybe it's ok because it's just _HarryandLouis,_ like it's always been and no matter what changes everything really just stays the same.

 


End file.
